


Isn't That What Time Is For?

by kazzlikethat



Series: The Keonhoon Agenda [2]
Category: ONEUS (Band), ONEWE (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Eurwangni Beach, I love them and I'll never shut up about them, Keonhee is Bad at Feelings, Lots of Thinking, M/M, Yonghoon's Better at Feelings than Keonhee but he is still No Good, ship Keonhoon for a better life, weus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzlikethat/pseuds/kazzlikethat
Summary: Distance sucks, that's it, that's the fic.
Relationships: Jin Yonghoon/Lee Keonhee
Series: The Keonhoon Agenda [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1671826
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Isn't That What Time Is For?

**Author's Note:**

> I promised more Keonhoon and here we are! 
> 
> Title from: [My Heart With You – The Rescues](https://youtu.be/XlajS_d3fHc).

The hotel mattress is too comfortable. Keonhee feels his body sink into its softness, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The bed is better than the one Keonhee has back at the dorms. It accommodates his weight without a complain. And he presses his face to the covers and finds that they, too, are ridiculously high-quality. It’s too perfect, too ideal.

He hates it.

Or maybe he misses home too much.Keonhee rolls around on the bed to lie on his back. The room gets fuzzy, ceiling closing down on top of him. He shuts his eyes, feels like he's spinning. The door to the bathroom opens, letting out the accumulated heat from the shower. Dongju paces around the room, towel wrapped around his waist. He leaves a trace of fading wet footprints on the carpet.

“Don’t fall asleep, you need to shower,” Dongju glares at him from his bed. He's already dressed and getting under the covers, phone in hand.

Keonhee figures the maknae is right and he should get ready for bed. He forces his body into motion, trying to ignore how much his legs ache. It’s all worth it once he’s under the warm water. Keonhee knows by now the cause to his exhaustion goes beyond the concerts. The Japan tour is almost over; suddenly he is very aware that ONEWE will arrive tomorrow to share the last stage with them.

It’s not that Keonhee is dreading it, but he _is_ dreading seeing Yonghoon. The thought itself not only sounds very wrong, it also makes his chest tighten, and it hurts. Keonhee doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. He’s not a huge fan of acting on impulse, some things need time to settle. The problem is, he is not sure where to draw the line in this particular situation.

When they decided to stop dancing around each other and date, both thought they were ready to face the distance. It was true, for the most part. They learned to be kind to each other and to themselves. The harsh truth being digested early: there’s not enough time. And maybe there will never be. Having accepted that, Keonhee learned to cherish the messages he couldn’t respond to, the videos he couldn’t see. He learned to share the small things, instead of holding actual conversation. Because on a good day, all he can do is tell Yonghoon he’s alright, and all he can expect back is to know his boyfriend is doing okay, right?

That can’t be asking for too much.

Keonhee gets out of the shower, drying his hair with the towel as much as he can. The smell of his own shampoo overpowers his senses. He makes a mental note to buy a new one and check it smells nothing like this one, already sick of the fruity scent. Keonhee cleans the mirror with the hand towel and gives a tight smile to his reflection. He looks fucking exhausted, exactly how he feels.

He worries too much.

Instead of rushing to bed, Keonhee ends up staring at his phone once again. His last message to Yonghoon mocking him on the screen. He lost count of how many times he’s done it today, don’t even get him started on the past week. It’s stupid, really. Because Keonhee knows for a fact that Yonghoon isn’t avoiding him at all. Most likely, he got caught up on all the preparations for their next comeback and forgot to answer.

Actually, it’s possible this isn’t even the longest they’ve gone without communicating. Yet it’s the first time Keonhee feels as if he can’t break the silence. Never before did he hesitate, and now he walks around with a heavy heart, keeps his phone close and waits. He expected at least one text before ONEWE actually arrives to Tokyo, but now is trying to come to terms with the fact that he didn’t get any.

 _Is this it?_ he asks himself, while he gets under the covers. Lights off. Keonhee realizes he’s scared of seeing Yonghoon so soon. He’s scared of his own feelings the moment they see each other after so long. What if this has nothing to do with distance? What if Keonhee is drifting away?

No, that’s not it. Keonhee figures he can’t trust his mind right now. Not when he’s this tired, not when deep down he’s aware he just misses Yonghoon. That he looks for excuses, because he can’t afford to go on living trapped on longing, he can’t afford being swallowed by nostalgia.

Guilt gets a vicious grip on him.

He shouldn’t have worried so much.

It’s February 15. Yonghoon’s eyes are shiny as he rushes to him.

Despite how cold it is in the venue, Keonhee feels hot all over. Barely has a second to process his own emotions when Yonghoon’s already wrapping him in a tight hug. Keonhee hides his face on the other’s neck, breathes in, once, twice, and lets his body relax.

“Hey, I missed you,” Yonghoon whispers to him, one of his hands caressing the back of Keonhee’s hand. The gesture so delicate he almost doesn’t feel it. Keonhee does nothing but hum and keep Yonghoon closer for a little longer. They’re going to start recording for the behind the scenes soon, so he tries to get as much comfort as he can. Yonghoon must notice he’s uncharacteristically quiet, because after a couple more seconds he steps back. “You okay?”

It isn’t a perfect reunion. Keonhee still feels like he is standing far from the older, nervous, as if he is walking on thin ice. The distance and the silence are there, but so is the overwhelming desire to stay, to keep the other close.

“I’m alright,” he confirms, looking down at his shoes.

Keonhee watches Yonghoon greet the rest of the members and wonders, not for the first time, if they’ll be okay.

During the time they were apart, Yonghoon developed the habit of biting the end of his pencils. Keonhee wonders who he picked it up from. He can’t think of anyone in WeUs who does that, but it’s not like he’s spent much time the last months with the ONEWE members.

Not like it even matters who he picked it up from. Keonhee is starving for the smallest things, searches for new details to take with him. Yonghoon has a tendency of adopting certain words or expressions people around him do, completely unaware. It doesn’t even have to be someone close. In the past, Keonhee has noticed Yonghoon picks up random gestures, even from staff he sees once.

“Jesus, can you stop slobbering all over that pencil?”

At least, Yonghoon has the decency of looking apologetic. He puts the pencil away from his lips and starts tapping on the desk instead. Keonhee suppresses the urge to call him out on that too. Keonhee didn't plan on meeting Yonghoon today. They were still recovering from the plane back from Japan and, in his case, the exhaustion of the tour itself. The only reason Keonhee decided to even step out of his dorm and walk to the RBW lounge for coffee is because Seoho and Geonhak had been bickering all day. First about a lost shirt, then about the proper way of organizing clothes, then about how messy Geonhak is. Keonhee had no idea where they got the energy to be like that. After the euphoria from the last concerts started to fade, Keonhee found himself craving to stay still for as long as possible.

He shouldn't find it surprising that Yonghoon's there. He sits in the farthest table from the door, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Keonhee stays at the door a little longer, hesitating. He knows Yonghoon wouldn’t mind some company, he never did in the past. Even if the scenery felt distant. An image that belonged to the past, Keonhee feels closer here than he did back in Japan. Maybe it’s the lack of make-up and cameras, maybe it’s the familiarity of it all. The same table, the same expression on the singer’s face, exactly like the first time they met there.

Bracing himself, he sits down in the empty chair across from Yonghoon, making him jump. Keonhee’s laugh fills the air between them, and a sense of security makes its way in-between all the doubts.

“Hello stranger,” Keonhee says. He can’t help but feel delighted, and receives a beaming smile in return.

They stay there for a small eternity. Keonhee enjoying the warmth of his americano while Yonghoon keeps working. Well, he seems to be reading the same things over and over again, if you ask Keonhee. Still, his focus is impressive. Keonhee wishes he had half his ability to concentrate in loud environments. He can’t relate.

“Go for a walk with me,” Keonhee pleads, when it’s been almost fifteen minutes since Yonghoon wrote a single word.

“I didn’t bring a mask though,” and Keonhee is sure Yonghoon doesn’t care. Only mentions it because he knows Keonhee worries from time to time about being seen.

Not today though, today Keonhee shrugs, “what are they gonna’ do.”

It’s a busy night. And they don’t get too far because dodging the rush of foot traffic all the time is anything but nice. Keonhee drags Yonghoon out of the busy sidewalk and into Hannae Children’s Park. The only occupants at the moment are a man and his tiny dog.

They sit together and Yonghoon entangles his ankle with Keonhee’s. His cheeks are tinted by the cold. Keonhee makes sure to press closer, enough to smell the remaining scent of coffee in every shuddering breath he takes.

“Would you…” Yonghoon trails off. Keonhee lets him stall on his thoughts, presses the back of his hand against his to show he is listening. “Would you go somewhere with me tomorrow?”

The request is too vague for his liking, “you’ll have to elaborate on that.”

He didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow, other than the usual practice hours. They're not scheduled, but the ONEUS members have been working on their new song. Comeback around the corner.

“Just say yes,” Yonghoon pleads, intertwining their fingers. Keonhee sighs. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Yonghoon, but he wasn’t a fan of not knowing what he is about to get into. “I’ll tell you once you say yes.”

Keonhee throws his head back with a loud groan but ends up agreeing.

“I hate you,” he adds, for no other reason than being petty.

“Okay good,” Yonghoon stands up. He takes both of Keonhee’s hands in his, conjuring a sweet, innocent, self-satisfied, smile and says: “we are going to Eurwangni beach.”

Keonhee spends the whole way back trying to convince him otherwise.

It’s 8:32 and Keonhee finds himself standing outside in the cold –all bundled up with his warmest black hoodie, a black jacket and the ugliest scarf he owns –he needs to get rid of the ugly dark green scarf. He keeps his hands in his pockets, breathing in the icy and dense morning air. Pollution is bad today, the lack of rain the last four days not doing much to help. Yonghoon comes out of the building bouncing with energy, hands him a mask and a black beanie.

“Do I have to?”

“Your hair is an ugly yellowish green sad disaster right now, yes you have to,” Yonghoon states.

“You are so nice.”

Yonghoon pushes him forward and into the busy sidewalk, “it draws too much attention.”

Keonhee can’t fight with that. They walk to Kyungnam Hotel, less than three blocks away, and wait for the next bus to Incheon International Airport. This is the part Keonhee is most worried about. There isn’t a single moment in which the amount of people decreases. That means it’s more likely for someone to recognize them.

“This is the dumbest thing we’ve done so far,” he states, once they are comfortable sitting at the back of the bus. He takes the window seat and Yonghoon sits slightly sideways beside him. It can't be all that comfortable, but if anyone tried to catch their faces, his back would be in the way. They keep their intertwined hands between each other, “I can’t believe I agreed to this.”

Yonghoon lips are still quivering from the cold, “in your defense, you didn’t know what you were agreeing to.”

“Shouldn’t that be even more worrisome?” he wonders.

The second bus, the one that’ll take them from the Airport to Eurwangni beach, is almost empty. The sky starts to clear and Keonhee feels his own body losing some of the tension. It’s a thirty minute ride of Yonghoon dozing off on his shoulder.

They get there a little past eleven. Once the rest of the passengers disperse Yonghoon is quick to get rid of his mask, stuffing it inside his pocket. It’s a weekday and, on top of that, winter, so there aren’t many tourists around. Keonhee catches Yonghoon looking around with the excitement of a little kid. He can see the reflection of the harbor gray clouds in his eyes.

They walk past the bigger hotels and stores. The closer they get to the sea the wind grows in intensity, making Keonhee hide behind his scarf even more.

He needs something to wake him up soon, get rid of the dizziness of the ride. Yonghoon's long arms keep flailing around in the air as he walks a little ahead from him. Keonhee lets out all the air in his lungs and fills them again, once, twice, before catching up to him. He links his arm with Yonghoon to stop the nervous movements and offers him a reassuring smile. Sure, this is a dumb idea, and Keonhee _was_ against it. But they're already here now, he may as well enjoy it. It feels like Keonhee desperately needs the false notion of normalcy getting away from work and the company gives him.

After freezing for way too long, Yonghoon drags him to a tiny coffee shop in front of the beach. The original plan was to buy something to go, but they're the only customers, and it's warm, and it smells nice. The boy behind the counter is in his own little world, both headphones on. Keonhee manages to see the glimpse of a video in his phone, deems it safe.

It started way back, before they even had a clear debuting date. Keonhee used to have individual vocal lessons until late every Wednesday and Friday. They were also provided by the company and free, so he tried to take advantage of them as much as possible. Sadly, he and his vocal coach never clicked. It got to a point where Keonhee stopped going back to the dorms after, needing a little time to feel less on edge. He didn't feel like moping around other trainees. Instead, he started walking around, or spending time at the RBW Lounge.

After meeting one too many times by accident, Yonghoon began to wait for him, unprompted. Keonhee didn’t question it, secretly glad to have someone outside the trainee-world to speak to. In the middle of unstable and uncertain bonds, Yonghoon felt like a safety net. Someone less likely to pack his bags one day, walk out of the door with an empty promise to stay in contact. Yonghoon felt static enough in a place painted by the unknown.

If the weather was nice, Yonghoon would bring him an iced americano to the company building, and take the long way back to the dorms with him. Other times, when the older didn’t show up, Keonhee found himself searching for the vocalist. He would find him sitting on the farthest table of the Lounge, focused on whatever project he had at the moment. But no matter how busy Yonghoon looked, his face lighted up with a welcoming smile. And he bought Keonhee something to eat, most of the time ignoring the younger’s protests.

“Hyung, is this your way to win my heart or what?” Keonhee joked once, smirking. But Yonghoon didn't laugh, instead, he looked like a deer on headlights, cheeks red. Keonhee’s smirk vanished. Heart beating so loud he worried he’d miss Yonghoon's answer.

But he didn't. Yonghoon leaned forward, a little awkward, and asked, "is it working?"

Keonhee choked on his food.

He thought Yonghoon was insane, admitting he was flirting the whole time, to a male trainee, in public. Honestly, Keonhee suspected it for a while, but figured even entertaining the possibility was a free ride to heartbreak. He didn’t need it, he was busy enough as it was.

And here they were, more than three years later. Yonghoon with both hands around the warm cup, staring back at the beach through the window. The deafening force of the sea didn’t reach them anymore, becoming a murmur forcing its way under the door.

“Hyung,” he calls, upper body on top of the table, staring at him through his lashes, “are you really not letting me pay for anything?”

Yonghoon rests his chin on his palm. The corner of his lips twitches as he exhales a repressed laugh. There’s life in his eyes, as if someone painted a small world inside of them. When he laughs, he leans forward with the force of it. His beauty is calm, serene, as much an attitude as it is the way he looks. Keonhee can't look away when Yonghoon laughs.

“Did you doubt it?” Yonghoon looks with his answer.

Keonhee raised an eyebrow at him, “why are you trying to act all smug? You aren't.”

“Yah! I’m being nice.” Keonhee wants to tell him he sounds like a whiny baby, with the pouty tone of his. He does, and it's fucking adorable. “No one appreciates my kindness.”

He makes a small ball with a napkin and throws it at Yonghoon’s face, “you are so shameless.”

“How am I shameless, you like it when I buy you food,” Yonghoon throws it back as Keonhee laughs, but he dodges it in time.

“You know there’s no need for you to try and win my heart, right?” The question is out of his mouth before he can properly consider it. Immediately the thoughts that’ve been pestering him since Japan come back, and guilt right after. It’s not that he doesn’t mean it when he says it, that’s not the root of his fears. It’s the unhelpful _what if’s_ that start tormenting him. Because what happens if he stops meaning it?

“Yeah, right,” Yonghoon keeps up the indignant act, but there’s no sign of real worry. Keonhee doubts that’s the case, or, at the very least, he shouldn’t assume he’s the only one that wonders if they'll be okay. If Yonghoon worries like he does, it doesn't show.

For now, he lets himself be entertained by Yonghoon’s antics. Arms crossed on top of his chest, bottom lip sticking out in an adorable pout. No one in his right mind would believe Yonghoon’s actually mad about it, but Keonhee lets him be. Takes the time to appreciate the small things, the details. All that four am text messages, or sleepy video calls, couldn't convey.

It makes having Yonghoon sitting in front of him, in the flesh, so much better.

Everything looks cold and beautiful. Especially Yonghoon, whose body deals poorly with the humid weather and is shivering all over. Keonhee has to step between him and the sea, after the water almost reaches him one too many times. He takes Yonghoon by the sleeve, drags his body closer. Keonhee places both hands on his cheeks in an attempt to help the older recover some body heat.

“I'm freezing,” Yonghoon says, lips pursed.

If they were somewhere else, if they weren’t who they are, Keonhee would’ve leaned in to kiss him. Instead, he lets out a heavy sigh, looks up. The clouds are gone but the sky still looks as if someone placed a sheet of white cellophane on top of it. Even the sun becoming pale. He doesn't think the temperature will change much, unless the wind let down for a little while. He also doesn't think Yonghoon will accept going back early or staying inside. Not that Keonhee wants to go back or anything, it feels too soon. It’s still early, there’s still time.

Another sigh. Keonhee disentangles the ugly scarf from around his neck and puts it around Yonghoon's. Makes sure to cover his mouth and rosy nose. Yonghoon's eyes squint a little, shine, and Keonhee knows that means he's smiling.

“Come on, you said you wanted to walk as far as we could.” A tiny but energetic nod, Yonghoon takes a step forward, but doesn't avoid Keonhee. Instead, he lets their foreheads bump together. Keonhee grunts, moving back. He rubs his forehead, frowning. “Such a child.”

They get further away than he thought they would. His lips feel chapped, Keonhee licks his bottom lip and grimaces at the taste of salt. His skin feels sticky, his eyes dry. It’s overall an uncomfortable sensation but Yonghoon keeps going around as if his existence weighed nothing.

Yonghoon's always been lighthearted. He is good at breaking down problems into small things, takes away the larger, heavier, feelings with a handful of properly chosen words. Keonhee doesn't know how he does it. Not that he never gets sad, or angry, or things don't trouble him. But at the core? A river, consistent, calm.

Yonghoon has a way with words (no wonder he's a remarkable lyricist). Keonhee is quick witted, but that's not the same. He knows how to defuse tension, Yonghoon knows how to digest it.

  
Once, before Keonhee can even fathom dating Yonghoon, he walks himself into a wall. No, really, he walks straight into a wall and Yonghoon is there to witness everything. It's not his finest moment, and mortification makes him tune out the world long enough to not realize Yonghoon is lowkey panicking. His concerned expression transmits a heavy mixture of sensations to his dizzy mind, and he has a hard time finding the strength to speak.

“I'm fine,” he grunts, massaging his head. His temple got the worst of it, he can feel it getting swollen, but the pain starts to lessen immediately.

“You need to put some ice on it, that was an ugly fall Keonhee-yah,” Yonghoon helps him get up. His hands are warm, comforting, against Keonhee’s exposed skin. He should’ve changed into a long-sleeved shirt earlier. “Come on, I'll take you to the dorm.”

“Please hyung, I'm okay,” he pleads.

Yonghoon looks unconvinced. Insists that Keonhee shouldn't be alone until it was undeniable he was okay. But Keonhee refuses to go back to the dorms. It isn’t that serious, and he can already picture Hwanwoong laughing at him if he ends up explaining he walked into a wall, of all things. He convinces Yonghoon to tag along for an impromptu walk. They go to Hannae Children’s Park for the first time together. They walk around it three times before Keonhee decides it’s enough and lets his body fall on the nearest bench.

Yonghoon fidgets in front of him, still standing. Awkward, he moves his weight from one foot to another. It makes Keonhee anxious.

“Keonhee-yah?” “Hm?”

“Why did you walk into the wall?”

Keonhee's eyebrows furrow together, he stares up at the older, a tad annoyed, “clearly not on purpose.”

Yonghoon flinches at his tone. “Ah, I'm sorry!” He bows his head a little, “I worded that wrong, that’s not what I meant.”

Keonhee's stomach constricts. He didn’t mean to snap at Yonghoon of all people, and now he is left speechless by his quick apology. He isn’t used to that kind of attitude from his hyungs. Not that they were mean to him, but Keonhee expected Yonghoon to call him out on being disrespectful.

"Hyung there's no need to apologize, I'm sorry for snapping at you," Keonhee caught his bottom lip between his teeth to calm his nerves. The stare he was receiving wasn't helping. 

"What I meant to ask was if anything bad happened earlier," Yonghoon rephrases. "I saw you from afar, you looked troubled?"

Did he? It could be. His mood always sours after vocal lessons, and today’s had been specially frustrating. Keonhee isn’t sure what the problem between him and his vocal coach is, but it does nothing but get worse. Today, he goes out of the room feeling mediocre at best. It drives him mad, that a single comment can send him spiraling down into insecurity. No one had ever told him he wasn’t enough before, quite the opposite. Keonhee always considered himself lucky to be around people that encouraged him to try harder, because he’s heard the horror stories from fellow trainees. And Keonhee isn’t stupid, he knows better than to dwell on something an adult that _dislikes_ him for no reason said. That’s why he’s upset; he is dwelling on it, isn’t he?

He’s angry at himself. For making a big deal out of it, and giving a free pass for doubt to linger as a recurrent topic in his thoughts. Not that Keonhee thought he was the best or remarkable. Keonhee always thought about himself as an average person. Sure, he has talent, he works hard. But lots of other people do. He's not outstanding, but he always thought he was, at the very least, good enough.

He ends telling Yonghoon everything about it. Starts recalling the first one-on-one lessons he had, and how they do nothing but get worse. Yonghoon listens to him, attentive. Finally sitting down beside him when Keonhee starts stuttering a bit, his lisp becomes more noticeable. He speaks about how he thinks of himself, and watches the small wrinkles between Yonghoon’s eyebrows grow deeper.

“That’s not it though,” Yonghoon tells him. He isn't even looking at him but at his shoes, he’s playing with some of the little stones scattered on the dry floor. His casual tone makes Keonhee feel a little lost, “you think you’re average because you keep comparing yourself to average standards.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keonhee has half the mind to tame his curiosity and act a tiny bit indignant. Yonghoon finally stops playing with the stones, folds his arms on top of his chest, the gesture making him look like an overgrown child. Then he locks his eyes with Keonhee’s. As always, having his undivided attention felt rewarding, but Keonhee tries to not let it get to him.

“Do I sing well Keonhee-yah?”

The question makes Keonhee straighten his body, a little taken aback by it. He feels like he lost the point of the conversation before it even started, “of course!”

“So, I’m talented, and I’m good because I work hard.” Keonhee recognized the sudden confidence Yonghoon acquired, it was the same he had the first time they talked about music. It sounds like _belonging._ “Just like lots of other average people, am I right? But then,” Yonghoon’s smile grows wider, “why am I here instead of someone else?”

Keonhee’s mouth gapes a little, he wants to argue that it’s _different_. That Yonghoon’s anything but ordinary, to him. He wants to say he has one of those voices that stick with you, that he listened to all the M.A.S 0094 discography after the first time he heard him sing. Instead, he takes the easy way out, “because you are hot as fuck?”

He watches Yonghoon’s confident persona crumble, dusty pink spreading on his cheekbones and neck. He brings a hand to his nape, mutters something Keonhee doesn’t catch. And when he does answer, Yonghoon’s looking at him with pleading eyes and bottom lip sticking out, only a little bit, but enough to be endearing. “I’m being serious.”

Ah, and the whiny voice. Keonhee could’ve seen it coming. He has seen Yonghoon like this before, when any of his band members refused Yonghoon’s affections. But it sure feels different when it’s directed at him. Keonhee almost laughs out of pure satisfaction, takes a mental note to cause that reaction again soon.

“Me too,” he insists, deciding is enough eye contact for now and gently pushing Yonghoon’s feet with his own. Yonghoon reciprocates the gesture by interlocking his ankle with Keonhee’s, it helps calm down his erratic thoughts.

“Seriously Keonhee-yah,” the older insists, quickly composing himself, “you are not average, a good voice is useless if you can’t pour yourself in it and, trust me, you do.”

Keonhee thinks back to what his vocal coach said and sighs, still feeling stupid for getting so caught up with it, “I think I’ll ask to be assigned to a new vocal coach.”

Yonghoon beams at him, his face brightens, “that’s the first smart thing you’ve said today.”

Keonhee takes the liberty to kick Yonghoon.

Their silence is accompanied by the waves breaking against the sand, bigger and stronger than earlier. They find a space far enough besides one of the biggest rocks. It cuts the wind, making it actually possible to stay there. Keonhee likes the sea as much as it intimidates him. When he was a kid and visited the beach with his family, Keonhee’s mother would tell them to avoid standing with their back to the sea. She always looked scared, and Keonhee fed from that fear, always uneasy. The sea is an unexpected force, ever-changing.

Much like idol life, Keonhee can never grasp its immensity. Whenever Keonhee believes he managed to figure it out, a new wave crashes down into the shore, one that’s nothing like the one that came before. Unpredictably bigger, slower. It moves and relocates memories engraved on the sand. It washes away certainty, and creates a new reality for you to explore.

Yonghoon's hair turns a lighter copper tone under the orange sun. Keonhee lets him press back against his chest, sitting between his legs. He is pretty sure they look ridiculous, long-limbed and tangled together.

His phone hasn't stopped buzzing for the last couple minutes, but Keonhee refuses to acknowledge it. He's sure their members already figured out they left together, which means all these calls could be from his manager. Not a nice thought. He could be missing an impromptu meeting, and he prefers to not find out about it yet.

Yonghoon’s tired, he can tell by the somewhat lost stare he is giving the sand around his shoe, moving it around from time to time. Keonhee is sure he’ll complain about sand getting everywhere sooner than later, but doesn’t have the heart to stop him. Because Yonghoon’s been like this since he met him; when the days start to end, there’s exhaustion surrounding his every move. But is not the weary kind. Not at all. Keonhee’s seen him drop like dead weight on his bed with a little satisfied smile countless times, it takes him a long time to understand that it’s similar to pride, but softer. The addictive feeling when you know you did well, or you gave it your all.

It’s not always about music. Well, it is, mostly, but in the time they’ve known each other Keonhee has seen Yonghoon looking content with himself for the smallest things. And for others. He treats exhaustion with a calmness that should be out of place, like he’s grateful for the sore muscles.

The sky is turning into a desaturated blue, the morning clouds coming back to gather at the horizon. The orange of the dying sunset giving them texture, making them darker, bigger. Keonhee thinks it looks like far away mountains. It feels intimate, now that there’s barely anyone around.

“Do you…” Yonghoon goes to ask something, but clicks his tongue, probably ready to rephrase, “do you miss your family?”

“I’m not sure,” Keonhee stretches his legs on the sand, deciding not to care about getting his clothes dirty. And using it as an excuse to fix his eyes anywhere but Yonghoon.

He doesn’t know what missing his family entitles, or if he feels it often.

“I actually think I miss home, in a twisted way,” Keonhee admits, “it’s not the people I left behind, not even the home I left behind, it’s more like missing a concept, missing something you don’t have.”

“Home,” Yonghoon repeated, leaned his head on Keonhee.

“Being homesick of a home that never existed, sounds dramatic,” Keonhee laughs, holds Yonghoon closer by the waist.

“Feelings are dramatic,” the older says against his neck, Keonhee shivers and feels the smile forming in Yonghoon’s lips.

Keonhee watches darkness take over their surroundings, eyes still fixed in the orange lines projecting from the horizon to the grey clouds, sun already set. He lets his mind drift, thinks about waking up at ungodly hours to chase a sunrise that never came with his members. Thinks about Dongju passing him the phone after a call with Dongmyeong, and the embarrassment once he notices it’s Yonghoon at the other side of the line. Dongju giving him a knowing smirk, pleased at the sight of Keonhee’s red ears. Thinks about New Year, over and over, and how far it feels already.

Yonghoon starts whistling softly. Keonhee sneaks a glance his way and admires the growing shadows on his skin. Yonghoon looks delicate under the artificial white lights cast from the closest lamppost. Like a doll, when his lips curl and the gentle wind ruffles his hair. He takes the scarf off and tangles it with his arms, long fingers caressing the gentle fabric. Yonghoon manages to fill the silence with his restless nature in a way Keonhee could never dream of. He knows people think it’s annoying, but Keonhee finds comfort in it instead.

Their silence is never a reality. Not deafening nor tangible. It seeps through Keonhee’s fingers, mocking him for being scared. Nothing about them can be silenced. The touch of cold fingertips against warm skin, the showcase of breathed emotions leaving trembling lips. Ultimately, Keonhee believes enough in them to deal with a little distance, a little pain. Keonhee believes in all that is not said but done.

When Yonghoon turns around, searching for his eyes, flushed cheeks, Keonhee decides it _makes sense_.

It makes sense that he longs for him, and it makes sense it’s not easy.

Yonghoon reaches for his hand and Keonhee accepts it eagerly, “don’t get mad.”

The request takes him off guard. He eyes Yonghoon suspicious, like any normal person would after hearing their boyfriend say that without warning.

“Okay,” he settles for, letting go of all the other, more emotion-driven responses he thought of.

“I kind of want to apologize, but I’m not sure you’ll welcome it,” Yonghoon picks at a loose thread in the end of the scarf. Keonhee caresses the back of his hand with his thumb, gentle. “I’m sorry I never answered.”

He doesn’t need to specify _when_ , “hyung it’s fine, I don’t mind!”

As soon as the words leave his mouth Keonhee regrets it. Keonhee hates that he’s being impulsive again, because it’s probably clear to Yonghoon he doesn’t mean that one bit. He wishes he didn’t mind, at least.

Yonghoon is waiting for him to go back on his words, and Keonhee feels small under his stare. He doesn’t correct himself, not because of a lack of intention, but because he can’t get the words out.

“I’m still sorry,” Yonghoon insists. “Keonhee-yah you could’ve…”

“What?” Keonhee can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him, body tense.

“Never mind.”

 _You could’ve talked to me instead,_ Yonghoon doesn’t say, but Keonhee gets the message loud and clear. They stay like that, studying each other, scrutinizing. There’s the fabricated sense of silence again, wandering between them like a thick brick wall. Keonhee mentally curses distance again, having already decided to put the blame on it.

Yonghoon gives in first, pulls his hand away to rub the tiredness out of his eyes, “this is stupid.”

Keonhee agrees, but doesn’t verbalize it.

“It’s seriously stupid, Keonhee-yah,” he insists.

There’s something urgent in his tone for the first time. Something urgent and raw, and expectant. And for some reason, that's exactly what does it for Keonhee.

“I missed you,” he finally says. “And I want to be okay with you disappearing for a week like you used to but I can’t anymore, I fucking missed you all the time.”

It takes Keonhee saying it for him to realize. He was never drifting away, quite the contrary. The bigger presence Yonghoon has in his heart, the bigger his desire to be close. The harder it was to bear the distance.

The admission lingers in the air for longer than necessary, tense, tense, until it snaps in the form of Yonghoon bawling his eyes out. Keonhee moves so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. And once more he wonders how ridiculous they must look, with Yonghoon in his arms, long limbs getting on the way until the older settles on letting his arms fall at his sides. He is shaking, but his cries are almost silent. Keonhee waits, knowing better than to pressure Yonghoon, letting him calm down on his own.

It doesn’t take long, Yonghoon composes himself. Pulls back, eyes red and cheeks wet, and smiles so big Keonhee’s chest aches.

“I didn’t think you did,” he explains, voice rough, “you never told me that before.”

And Keonhee can’t help but feel a little ridiculous because of it. It’s nothing but the truth, never before could Keonhee get the words out of his mouth. And he can see now, how easy it must’ve been for Yonghoon to come to the wrong conclusions. To be scared.

Keonhee takes Yonghoon’s hand, tugging him closer. The singer looks relieved, and it fuels the guilt he’s been harboring

“I’m so sorry, I never realized…” he chokes on his words, breathes, open-mouthed, tasting salt. Keonhee wishes he could see Yonghoon’s eyes properly, instead of the casted shadows.

He is expecting Yonghoon to ask for further explanation, but he doesn’t. Yonghoon tilts his head up, staring at the pitch-black sky. Slowly, the corner of his mouth curves gently, then a little more, wider, until he breaks into one of his dashing smiles. Keonhee watches in awe, feeling off-kilter and breathless at the sight.

He doesn’t dare move, staring intently at Yonghoon scooting closer. Lately, Keonhee is always taken off guard when Yonghoon kisses him. Kisses him like he’s running out of time. A little rushed and on impulse, Keonhee feels the push of Yonghoon’s hand against his shoulder. He falls, the synthetic fabric of his jacket makes an unpleasant sound. He thinks about how annoying getting all the sand out of it will be, and then Yonghoon’s warm mouth finds his. It’s suffocating, under his weight, and it’s dangerous; they’re hiding in the shadows, but his heartbeat still picks up at the thought of being seen. He stops Yonghoon’s urgency with a playful bite and relishes in the small whimper coming from the back of his throat.

His whole body tingles.

“You’re so careless,” he breathes out the words into Yonghoon’s jaw, and they both know how empty they are. The only response he gets is a low hum, and Keonhee places both arms around his back before parting his lips again. The wind gets stronger and a wave hits the shore with a deafening fizzle, deep, loud. It goes on and on; the water, Yonghoon’s taste against his tongue, the cold exterior to their warm little world.

“I always wanted to kiss you outside,” Yonghoon admits, still panting a bit.

He could get addicted to Yonghoon’s joyful expression (not like he isn’t already). Keonhee’s chest swells. To hell with it, he thinks, and lifts himself on an elbow to kiss Yonghoon again. His lips are too chapped, but he doesn’t care. His heart is hammering, loud enough to deafen the sea. Keonhee feels reckless in the best way possible, lets Yonghoon press his entire body against his. He feels alive, and warm inside out, for the first time in a long time.

They’re bad at this, Keonhee concludes. They’re bad at communicating, and for some reason have taken a liking to tip-toeing around each other. Never quite forward enough. But it’s good, what they have. It’s a work in progress.

Distance robbed them the sense of familiarity they used to have, it made them cautious of big plans and dreams, and expectations. Stopped talking about what tomorrow will be because they learned to only ever have _today._ There’s no outline anymore, no script. And sometimes Keonhee thinks the void will swallow them. Yet it never happens.

It’s okay, he decides, to be going nowhere for a while.


End file.
